


A Thing To Do

by lankyguy



Series: A Barbarous Age [2]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:18:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lankyguy/pseuds/lankyguy
Summary: Will Scarlett and his men have arrived in England and set off on their mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Will Scarlett is returning from the Holy Land.  
> A continuation of the storyline from "Wither Thou Goest."  
> post- RH s02e13 "We Are Robin Hood!" post- “Heroes & Villains: Richard the Lionheart”
> 
> Special thanks to LJ user ladywillin.

Will Scarlett was checking through his pack, as Roger Godberd dealt with the Captain of the boat. Fulke, whilst not outlawed – technically, was still a wanted man. 

With chagrin, Will admitted silently that he had completely blown their cover story on the boat. They were clearly not pilgrims.

It was never a very good story to begin with, merely a lie both they and the crew agreed on. It was mutually beneficial, they would receive transportation with few questions, whilst the Captain would be free from having to report them.

The outlaw from Sherwood had considered going on up the coast to Scarborough, but the attempted assassination had caused a change in plans. Now they docked at Grange, an arm of the hamlet of Gillingham, one of the Norman Cinque ports. 

Grange was just large enough to accommodate them, busy enough that they wouldn’t cause too big a stir in town, and yet small enough to be below Prince John’s sight. Even so, Will thought, the sooner we get away the better. 

Fulke FitzWarin had gone off with their two men, Conrad and Cecil, to get horses. FitzWarin would have liked a wagon as well to carry stores with them, but Will wanted to move lightly and quickly. He wasn’t sure what all had befallen England in the months he had been away, but he was determined to be prepared. 

Roger walked over to him, scratching his head.

“How did it go?” Will asked in concern.

“I’m not sure. I paid him all that we agreed on, but he wanted more to keep his mouth shut.”

“What has he got to tell?” Will slung his long bow on his back. 

“Four men back from the Holy Land? John’s spies are on high alert, fearing Richard’s return. We could earn him a pretty penny.”

“So, go and give him the money,” Will told him, nodding toward the ship’s Captain, Phillip, a stout and sweaty Norman with a tendency to meanness. The man was starting to walk off.

“But he’ll take it and just tell anyway. Besides we may need it, we are going to need supplies,” Roger protested.

“Trust me. Just give him the money, then go and meet Fulke at the rendezvous outside town. I’ll see you there later.” Will looked up; the air was cool, the light quickly dying. Perfect, I love the night, he thought.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Roger said, following the Captain with his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t,” Roger started, turning back to face Will, but the outlaw was gone. “Go off alone… Fulke is not going to like this,” He said aloud and followed after the Captain.

Half an hour later the Captain finished with Roger, his purse considerably heavier. In deference to the young Norman gentleman, Captain Phillip was willing to wait until Roger Godberd was well out of sight before he ran to the authorities.

With luck he could turn them in, head back to the ship and be under way in short order. The men were waiting at the ship. He’d ordered them not to disembark, it kept them from wandering off and getting drunk.

Phillip pulled the purse off his belt and jangled it. He was rounding a corner tossing it in the air and catching it, when an arrow suddenly lodged in the palm of his hand. He let out a shriek and crumpled to the ground, falling beside the coin purse.

Will Scarlet emerged from the shadows, the hood of his cloak pulled over his head. The Captain would recognize him, of course, but it kept prying eyes from seeing his face. 

“Christ!” The Captain screamed. Will grabbed Phillip by the belt and pulled the portly man into the shadows between the buildings.

“Keep your voice down and I may let you live,” Will warned.

“Why did you do that?” The Captain held his wounded hand gingerly.

“I’m not stupid. I’ve dealt with men like you all my life, small petty men. You were on your way to report us. “

“I wasn’t I swear!”

“You saw what I did to those men on the ship.” Will pulled his hatchet out, letting it gleam in the light of the full moon.

The Captain chewed on his lower lip, his eyes darting around, looking for an escape. Will grunted in frustration and grabbed the arrow sticking out of the man’s hand. He gave it a twist, causing Captain Phillip to howl.

“Stop! Stop, you’re right,” He said quickly, “I was going to report you. What do you want from me?” 

“You get on your ship and leave now. You stay out of port for one day, after that you land wherever you want and tell whomever you want.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t like killing. But I will protect me and mine, do you understand?”

“Yessir.”

“If I find out you did not do exactly as I asked, I will hunt you down and kill you. Swear to me that you will do as I instructed, and you will go free.”

The Captain gulped; the green eyes that stared at him from the darkness under the hood, blazed with cold fire. 

“I swear.”

Will picked up the man’s purse and pulled a smaller bag out of it, the one Roger Godberd had given to bribe him. The Captain moaned watching him.

“You can keep the fare for the journey across the channel; not for you, but for your men. I’m taking back the bribe my friend gave you. Consider it a donation to the people of England – in Robin Hood’s name.”

“You’re Robin ‘ood?” The Captain gaped in wonder.

Will smiled, hanging the small purse from his belt, and stepped back, melting in to the shadows,

“Go,” Will said, “Remember, I’ll be watching.”

The Captain got to his feet and ran to his ship. Will watched long enough to see the boat leave the dock, and then made his way out of town.

Gillingham was dirty, smelly and rat infested, a typical small port town and Will was glad to be leaving it. He wasn’t long on the road before he heard a determined signal; Fulke’s bad impression of an owl. Will rolled his eyes.

“Wilfred!” Fulke hissed in the dark.

“At ease Fulke, I heard you,” Will walked off the road and into the wood towards his friend, “It’s just Will, please.”

“I think not. You need to get used to your name, Lord Ivanhoe.”

Will shook his head. This was the oddest part of the plan to him, though he understood Richard’s reasoning. As a young Saxon lord, Will would have access to money, power and prestige that the young rebel Will Scarlett could not. People deferred to nobility, like it or not. It carried weight, even with outlaws.

There was something about it that rankled him though, and he wasn’t clear why. I’m lying, he thought. That’s it. I hate lying. That it was necessary was beside the point.

As an outlaw in Sherwood, he killed, stole and lied when necessary, but only when necessary, and it was never right. Although he wasn’t quite sure he believed in sin, he knew there was right and wrong in the world, and the difference wasn’t hard to make. Will needed only to listen to the still small voice inside him.

He wondered if Sheriff Vasey in Nottingham had a similar voice, was it absent, or did he just ignore it altogether? Did the call of money drown out all else?

“It’s Fulke and Wilfred,” Fulke whispered ahead as they came into the clearing. Conrad and Cecil at the ready, swords drawn. Will appreciated that.

“Thank god,” Roger breathed a sigh of relief. Will gave him a cross face.

“I am capable of taking care of myself you know,” Will told him.

“What’s the plan? Where do we go?” Fulke excitedly pulled out a carefully folded map from the pouch at his waist, and held it up. FitzWarin was always ready to move.

Conrad lit a torch and held it up so they could all see.

“We’ll head south along the Medway,” Will said. “Then cross over to Cruxton where we join the Pilgrim’s Pass. We follow it to Reigate, then turn north and go to London. A group of Palmers travelling along the Pass will arouse little attention. At London we separate. Roger will find out what he can from his contacts there. Roger, you’ll take Conrad and Cecil with you, whilst Fulke and I head on toward his castle at Whittington.”

“I think we should stay together,” Fulke protested. This plan was new to him; Will had been too cautious of the crew to risk discussing it openly on the ship. 

“Roger will have Conrad and Cecil, he’ll be fine,” Will pushed.

“Right,” Conrad agreed confidently. He was a handsome ginger-haired young man thick of chest and of mind. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I meant…” Fulke started, ignoring Conrad.

“I know what you meant, but I’ll have you with me,” Will smiled trying to avoid the argument. It mostly worked but Roger had a hurt look on his face, taking the separation as a slight. In some ways Fulke and Roger were like brothers, both vying for attention from a parent. In this case it was King Richard’s approval they sought by way of Will.

Again he wished they’d been able to disembark in Scarborough. Will missed Luke terribly. He hadn’t heard from him in months, and that last letter had been short, abrupt and delayed in the journey to the Holy Land. Will desperately hoped everything was all right. Luke was a resourceful man, like all Scarletts, but a little on the impetuous side.

Will worried for him. Leaving Luke behind for the Holy Land was one of the only regrets in his life.

“Tomorrow, when we join the Pilgrim’s Pass, Roger and Conrad will ride ahead of us, two gentlemen returning from the Holy Land. If you two see anyone, signal us so we have time to figure out what to do,” Will instructed them. “We have to be prepared for anything. Consider yourselves in enemy territory.”

“What are you playing at Wilfred? You’ve got an idea brewing, haven’t you?” 

“You’ll see. Tonight, we ride hard and fast, put as much space between us and this town as possible. We rest for a few hours when we get to the ferry.”

They made it down river with no incident and spent the early hours sleeping in a clearing made for travellers on the river. At first light the ferry began running and they made it easily across to Cruxton, pretending now to be two separate parties.

Much to Fulke’s chagrin he was now cast with Will and Cecil in the role of a Saxon peasant. He’d never had to pretend to be anything other than what he was, a noble, even as an exiled one.

Fulke got a glimpse into a new world when they decided to break their fast at a tavern on the way out of town. Roger and Conrad were invited to eat inside, whilst Fulke, Will and Conrad were relegated to the tables outside. 

It was common enough to Will, he’d eaten at Norman owned taverns before, but to Fulke and Cecil it was new and unnerving. With amusement, Will cautioned them both not to make too much eye contact with their Norman betters.

“You’ve never shied from it,” Fulke pointed a finger.

“It’s not the same. We’re trying not to call attention to ourselves now. And you know, you do have a challenging demeanor. I never cared before, because I was already an outlaw. That’s almost an immediate death sentence on capture – what more could they do to me?” Will asked.

They finished and waited for Roger and Conrad to leave, before following and heading down the Pass.

Will anticipated trouble and it came quickly. At a signal from Roger, Will led his horse off the road, and secured it. Fulke and Cecil followed his example. Leaving his pack behind, Will approached Roger’s position, hidden in the woods.

Up ahead a mother, father and young daughter travelling the Pass, were being accosted at sword point by a group of soldiers.

I knew it wouldn’t be long, Will thought sadly.

There were four soldiers on foot and one on horseback. Will assumed the one on horseback was the leader from both his mount and the crest on his tabard. One soldier was rifling through the wagon. Another held the mother and father at bay, while two others were holding the young girl down. It was clear what was about to happen.

Perfect, Will thought. He motioned for Roger and Conrad, unnoticed so far, to get off the road and join him. 

Moving forward they now had a group on either side of the road.

The man on the horse said something and got down. He began fishing under his tabard, pulling leggings down over a pimply arse.

Will readied his bow. The others followed suit. Giving the signal to wait for his instruction, he let an arrow loose. As it lodged itself in the meaty cheek of the lead soldier’s bare behind, Will quickly ran up the nearest tree.

“I bet that smarts,” Fulke chuckled in Cecil’s ear.

“He must be em-bare-arsed,” Cecil agreed. 

The leader howled, clutching at the arrow shaft in his rear, but afraid to rip it out. His men were thrown into utter confusion. They had swords at extended arm’s length brandishing them in every direction. They heard a keening moan, and turned in the direction of the sound, from back down the road to Cruxton. 

Just as one of them began to gather his courage and inch forward, a dark shape fell to the ground in to the centre of the trail. The men stepped back in surprise. The shape rose off the road, it was a man in dark green cloak.

Will stepped forward with his hood pulled over his dark hair, his bow at the ready, eyes gleaming and a grim smile on his face.

All the soldiers stared at him in astonishment. They started to approach but halted as Will quickly aimed his bow at each of them in turn. He wasn’t as fast as Allan or Robin, but he was still faster than your average conscripted lackey. He’d get most of them before they’d get to him.

“He’s one man, get him,” their leader screeched in pain.

An arrow whistled out of the darkness of the forest and lodged itself in the captain’s other butt cheek. Howling he buckled forward on his knees.

“Nice shot,” Cecil whispered.

“Thanks,” Fulke grinned, he was a new convert to the long bow, but was quickly growing to love its power.

“The next one goes in the front,” Will said, “Although the target is quite a bit smaller, I think I can still make the shot.”

The captain whimpered, shaking his head, begging.

“Now, take all the money and put it in a nice little pile,” Will told the soldiers training his bow on them, one after the other. “All your money, not just what you stole from these people.”

The men looked up at him, and Will let loose an arrow. It lodged in the ground right beside one man’s foot, two arrows whistled from the woods, complementing it. The soldiers quickly complied.

The family huddled together in fear near their wagon.

“Now, take off your clothes, leave them in a nice neat little pile.” After the men had complied Will used their own clothes to blindfold and tie them securely to trees on the roadside. 

“Who are you?” The last soldier asked. He was little more than a boy.

“I’m a robber-in-the-wood, in a hood? Who d’ya think I am?” Will chuckled loudly. 

“Robin ‘ood?” He said in awe.

“There may be hope for you yet,” Will said tightening the boy’s binds. He patted him on the shoulder. “Why are you doing this?” Will whispered in his ear.

“No choice, they rounded us up and took us,” the boy almost sobbed.

Will nodded grimly. Stepping back in the road he motioned for the others to join him. He had Conrad roll up the tabards and keep them. They might come in handy.

After all was said and done, they returned the Pilgrim’s money and helped them back on their way to Cruxton. The family left praising Robin Hood.

Retrieving their own horses, King Richard’s men continued on their way. 

“That was diverting, next time let us have a little bit of the fun, eh?” Roger grinned.

“In the next village, you get to disperse the soldiers’ money,” Will agreed.

“Give it away?” Cecil asked.

“It isn’t ours,” Will told him. “We’re on a mission; we keep only what we need.”

“Is this what you used to do in Sherwood?” Fulke asked, admiringly.

“Yes.”

“But surely your Robin, wasn’t ‘the’ Robin Hood? I’ve heard stories about him since I was young,” Cecil sputtered.

“So have I, but it’s like my Robin told my old gang; we work for an ideal, a better England – Norman and Saxon, rich and poor. ‘Robin Hood’ serves a higher purpose, and so do you, all of us are Robin Hood.”

They proceeded in this fashion down the Pass, half the party lagging behind, the other a quarter mile ahead. At Fulke’s insistence Will took turns riding up front, so he might have the opportunity to practise his role as young Saxon lord, with anyone they might meet on the road. Several times this caused leapfrogging with the second team. They passed, whilst Will and Fulke stopped to talk with people along the way. 

Fulke, open and boisterous in temperament, often had to coax Will to talk, but when he did Will’s observations were thoughtful and reasoned. In Richard’s service in the Holy Land, Will had appeared passive and aloof, to Fulke. It was, he now knew, a mistaken impression, created by the younger man’s humility and introversion. But Will’s natural reserve served him well, and Fulke could see that Will was at heart a planner, a thinker, and a keen observer. 

They offered help along the way whenever possible. Several travellers who would have been ripe for the plucking got a pass. They were clearly not Pilgrims but wealthy Normans using the relative safety the road provided as cover. Will would have loved to relieve them of their purses but did not. He wasn’t sure how his new Norman brothers would react. Better to right wrongs, than to outright steal from the rich just because they were rich, and better not to test their mettle, quite yet. 

Most nights they slept in the forest along the pass. Will passed a good portion of the night fletching arrows.

“We can afford to buy them you know,” Fulke shook his head in wonder, fascinated by the young outlaw. For his part Will couldn’t help but notice the way Fulke’s tunic stretched over his broad chest, and his trousers clung enticingly to those very English parts of him. It was increasingly distracting.

Dispersing what money they could, in small villages along the way, they left the Pilgrim’s Pass at Reigate and headed north to London. Will insisted they hand out the money carefully, in secret, and individually. He did not want word travelling ahead of them that there were ‘wealthy people’ on the road giving away money.

They always did their work in the name of Robin Hood.

“Why not do it in our own names? Don’t we deserve the glory?” Conrad asked brightly.

“And bring down Prince John’s wrath? No, thank you,” Cecil scolded, smacking Conrad on the back of the head.

“We’ve no idea when Richard will return, better to let a myth get the credit and save our necks,” Fulke agreed.

“Better still, if I read what Will is doing here correctly, with Robin Hood springing up all over England, it may take heat off Sherwood and create a little uprising, right?” Roger asked.

“Maybe something like that,” Will smiled.

“Well played,” Fulke looked at him warmly, causing Will to blush.

“I like it, then,” Conrad spoke up. “It’s a good thing – a clear and good thing.”

He put voice to all their concerns. In the Holy Land things had grown complicated. There was no easy victory – ever, and surely if a thing was meant to be – it would be in God’s plan, and not quite so damned hard! Many of them had come to know Saracens, and knew them not to be a God-less people. Even Richard had some measure of respect for Saladin, and that was returned. Why, Will Scarlett had loved a Saracen woman! 

It was very complicated and troubling to the minds of the young men. But here, helping the poor, saving them from brutality, even at times from their own people – that was a clear just thing. It was something a man could be proud of.

Quickly they reached a small village near the outskirts of London and stopped for the night. The two groups each secured a room, continuing with the pretense that they were separate. Fulke and Will took one room, Roger, Conrad and Cecil, took another.

Fulke engaged the Innkeeper for both a barber and a bath. A chambermaid filled the tub, whilst the barber cut Fulke’s hair and beard, then Will’s. 

Fulke watched the old man shave the hair on the back of Will’s neck. Will Scarlett’s skin was so pale that the roots from the freshly shaved dark hair looked blue underneath his skin. Fulke stared, his thoughts turned to wondering what it would be like to kiss that long, lissome neck.

Will thanked the man and stood, shaking out his hair. The chambermaid curtseyed, quickly cleaned up the hair and left. Fulke paid the barber and watched him go.

Alone at last, Fulke thought. Will Scarlett what am I to do with you?

“I desperately need a bath,” Will said, the steaming water of the tub beckoning. It was a huge bath, surprising in so small a village. It was large enough for a man to stretch out in. A small table set next to it, prepared with wine and cheese.

“Have at,” Fulke smiled as Will moved to the tub and disrobed. 

Fulke busied himself with his kit, watching Will surreptitiously as he climbed into the bath. FitzWarin was alarmed at how much the young outlaw distracted him. Had they not bathed together any number of times in streams or lakes on the journey here? In the Holy Land, in King Richard’s Army, bathing had been a communal event by necessity. 

I’m acting like a child, Fulke chided himself. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the sight, he thought, as a smile broadened on his face. 

“What the hell, in for a penny in for a pound,” Fulke pulled his tunic over his head, and stepped toward the tub.

Will looked up and smiled at Fulke as he stepped out of his leggings and dropped his breeches. Will tried not to stare, but couldn’t help himself.

Fulke flinched as he sank in, the water was piping hot. Rose petals floated on the surface.

“You know, we can afford two baths,” Will blushed, with a grin. His eyes darted to Fulke’s then back to that broad, hairy chest.

“It’s more fun this way,” Fulke sliced off a piece of cheese from the table next to the tub and popped it in his mouth. Filling a cup with wine from the table, he took a long draught.

Will smiled at him, his eyes fixed on Fulke’s chest and the mat of dark curls.

With surprise Will felt one on Fulke’s long feet slide between his legs. It nestled comfortably under his balls. Fulke wiggled his toes causing Will to squirm, laughing despite himself.

“What is it with you Normans?” Will grinned like a thief.

Fulke grabbed both Will’s legs and pulled him toward him, in one quick move. Will cried out in surprise, almost falling forward on Fulke.

“What is it with you Saxon men?” Fulke challenged, moving closer still, his mouth at Will’s neck, trembling. His hand moved over Will’s body in the warm water and down between his legs, “Ah, that’s what it is.”

They came down late for supper in the common room. Some of the rowdy local populace already well in their cups.

“Where were you?” Roger whispered out of the side of his mouth, as Will and Fulke sat at a neighbouring table. “I was about to get worried.”

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Fulke grinned.

“Everything all right?” Will asked.

“Boring little town,” Roger said. “We may be the most excitement they’ve had all week.”

“That and the bloke at the bar. He’s chatting up the Innkeeper’s daughter,” Cecil grinned.

“I don’t think she’s having it,” Conrad chuckled.

“Certainly not if her mother comes down,” Cecil agreed.

Will turned to look but all he saw was the young man’s back. There was something about him that looked familiar. There was a second taller, dark haired young man with him.

The Innkeeper’s wife came downstairs straight away and seeing her daughter flirting with the boy at the bar, pushed into the kitchen.

“Now comes the fun!” Cecil clucked. Conrad laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

There was a sudden clamour from the kitchen and the unmistakable sound of steel on steel. The Innkeeper came out of the kitchen in a fury, dagger in one hand and butcher’s knife in the other. He hacked the larger knife into the counter near the young lovers.

“Scarlett you bastard, I’ve told you and your mate not to come round here!” 

Roger, Conrad and Cecil all turned to look at Will in surprise. Fulke watched the boy at the bar, there was something in the turn of the boy’s countenance.

Will turned around to look, then quickly back, trying to melt into the shadows.

“Come on Edmund, the jigs up, let’s get out,” the young man grinned broadly and pulled his friend by the elbow. They ran. The girl wailed.

Realization flared brightly in Fulke’s mind, as he looked at the first young man.

“We never should have stuck around,” Edmund chided him as they raced to the door.

Neither paid much attention to what they were doing, and Fulke easily tripped them with an outstretched leg. They went sprawling on the hard wood of the floor, with shouts of surprise and pain.

Roger immediately stood up, sword in hand and stopped the pursuing Innkeeper. Will and Fulke were laughing. Conrad and Cecil looked at each other in confusion.

“Help them up,” Fulke instructed. Conrad and Cecil quickly stood. They pulled the boys up roughly, and held them in place at sword point.

“Why’d you do that?” Edmund demanded. “We’ve done nothing to you.”

“Let them loose, or let me beat them,” the Innkeeper demanded. “I’ll have them out of my place and in the stocks in the town square. I demand an explanation.”

“So, you shall have it,” Fulke said. “My lord?” He turned to Will.

“I’ll take care of them,” Will told the Innkeeper, “They’ll leave with us in the morning, and won’t bother your daughter again.”

“Who are you?” Edmund demanded.

“He’s my big brother,” Luke Scarlett shook his head in disbelief. Will stood and ran into his arms.

“Hello Loopy,” Will said, hugging Luke tight, and kissing his head.

“Luke, or even Lukey, please – not Loopy,” Luke said, his throat tight.

“When have I ever listened to you?” Will smiled, and mussed the hair on Luke’s head. “Don’t cry, poor little Loopy.”

“I’m not crying,” Luke said defiantly, shoving at Will’s shoulder. They were about to start in, but Roger cleared his throat and caught Will’s attention quickly.

“I’m sorry my lord,” the Innkeeper spoke up. There was a note of fear in his voice, “I had no idea he was… that his family was…”

“He’s been travelling,” Will interrupted, trying to cut off any questions. “And he likes a little trouble, no surprise in my family. I’ll take him home. You have my deepest apologies.”

“Of course, I was a youth once myself,” the Innkeeper quickly retreated to the kitchen, as Luke and Edmund drew up chairs to join the party.

“Your brother?”

“So much for secrecy.”

“I was never one for subtlety anyway.”

“I don’t think Wilfred is either.”

“Who’s Wilfred?”

“How did you know he Will’s brother?” Roger whispered to Fulke during the tumult of conversation. “They don’t look that much alike.”

“It’s the smile,” Fulke said. “I saw it when Luke got caught and he turned to run. They have that same devilish smile.” Saxon men, Fulke thought with amusement, shaking his head. They are going to be my ruin!

Roger and Fulke watched Will and Luke. The brothers talked excitedly, beaming with joy, and happy to be together again. The world and the group’s fortunes now looked a bit brighter.


End file.
